Whumptober: Day 12 - Don't Move
by Lif61
Summary: Dean takes Jack hiking, and a natural disaster causes both of them harm.


**A/N: Written for day 12 of Whumptober 2019.**

**Prompt: "don't move"**

**WARNINGS: This fic contains injury, natural disaster, and a wild animal.**

* * *

Dean had been hiking with Jack when the rockslide happened. Really, Dean hated hiking. He'd rather be indoors watching a movie with a nice cold beer and a burger. Or he'd like to be playing Words With Friends with Mom or something. But Sam and Cas were busy, out working on the hunt, and Jack hadn't wanted to be holed up in the motel room, and he'd wanted to see the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range. His nerd of a brother had gotten Jack to start being a treehugger, so the kid had wanted to go outdoors, and Dean had had to indulge him. Things had been going alright. They'd frightened a bear cub, found a giant pile of shit that Dean figured was from a moose (something he didn't want to cross paths with), and they'd nearly gotten lost… _nearly_.

They were on a different trail, heading in the direction to go back to civilization when Jack had run off ahead of Dean, excited because he'd heard running water. Jack had been teasing him, calling him an old man as Dean leaned on his walking stick to catch his breath. The kid had gotten out of his sight, going around a rocky outcropping, and then it had started with the falling of a few rocks. At first Dean hadn't realized anything was wrong. He had thought maybe there was just something else out there with them, maybe a buck or something. And then the shaking had started. The ground had seemed to be vibrating, and Dean had had to hold onto a tree to catch his balance. Everything after that had become violent: shakes, rattles, bumps, and then ear-splitting cracks as rock fell and shifted, and dirt and dust had risen into the air.

Dean had been knocked off his feet, nearly carried away with the shifting ground off the edge of a steep cliff a few hundred yards away. Water splashed down over him, and he cried out for his son.

Long moments passed before the ground settled and the clattering grew quiet.

"Jack? Jack!"

The rocky outcropping his son had gone around was gone, was now just a pile of gray that bled into tan and lay at a forty-five degree angle. Dean picked himself up and started climbing over it.

"Jack!"

Groaning met his ears, and he ran towards the sound.

It took a frantic minute of searching but he found his son, half-buried under the fallen side of the mountain. He was covered in dirt, and was struggling to get out.

"Alright, I'm gonna get you out of here."

After putting his bag and his stick down, Dean got his shoulder under the largest shelf of rock that had Jack trapped and started heaving.

It didn't budge.

Jack gave a cry, was surely trying to move as well.

"Dean, it hurts," he complained.

"I know, I know," he panted. "It's gonna be okay."

He repositioned his feet, shuffling aside some of the gravel so it wasn't as slippery, and he got his arms around the slab of stone, and heaved again. His muscles bulged with the effort, and he was sweating from the strain. He soon hurt from how hard he was trying.

Dear god, where was Cas when he needed him?

Dean screamed in frustration, gave one hard final push, felt the rock move a centimeter, and then something in his back seemed to pop. He tried to hold the rock, tried to keep going, tried to not fail his son, but he couldn't do it. He collapsed, landing beside Jack, groaning, back throbbing and on fire. Sharp stabs ran down his left leg.

_Fuck!_

"Dean? Dean, what is it?" Jack asked, panic in his voice.

"Nothing," he lied, wincing. "It's nothing. I'm ok-_ay!_"

He tried to move, to raise up as he said the last part, but he couldn't do it, agony flaring through him, and his voice broke off into a cry.

"Oh god," he heaved out. "Oh god, we need Cas."

Dean tried reaching into his pocket for his phone, but the motion was awkward and twisted his arm. It only pulled at his shoulder, which in turn pulled at his back, and he clenched his teeth. Pain twinged in his toes.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Okay, I'm gonna pray to him. He'll hear me, and he'll come help us. It's gonna be alright."

"Dean, you're hurt."

"I know. It's fine. Just breathe, alright? Your father's gonna be coming."

So Dean sent a prayer to Cas, and now it was time to wait.

And god knew how long it would take for him to get there. Hours most likely. An animal could find them by then, would sense that they were injured, helpless. Dean's walking stick was somewhere behind him, and if he could just…

He reached out his hand, turned himself, craned his neck, back twanging with pain, reminding him of his helplessness, and…

Got it!

He reached his walking stick, and then he was pulling himself into a better position, one where he could see Jack, was lifted up somewhat. He started rubbing the end of the stick against a rock, trying to sharpen it.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, voice a pained moan.

"Making sure we're protected. You don't got your powers, we're all alone out here, and something might be wanting dinner."

He hoped that that something was just a bear or a mountain lion, but he knew there were other things that liked to live in mountains: wendigos, black dogs, a few shapeshifters, sometimes even some lonely, mournful ghosts. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a cannibal or two up there somewhere.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he got out, speaking on instinct, not wanting his kid to blame himself.

"But I wanted to go hiking."

"Lots of people like hiking. You think we all blame ourselves all the time for the bad crap that happens to us just because we wanted to have a bit of fun?"

"I…"

"Look, Cas is gonna get here, and he's gonna get us outta this mess. In the meantime…" Dean found a stone that had a sharp edge and would fit in the palm of Jack's hand, and he placed it there. "Here, hold onto this."

And so they waited.

* * *

Dean lay on his stomach, waiting for an attack to come. Whenever he heard movement, his breath would catch in his throat, more sweat would trail down his face, and his heart would beat even faster. He was sure whatever was out there could hear it, and that it could smell his fear. It was coming for him, was coming for them. Jack was looking pale, eyelids fluttering, and it was an effort to not just lay his head down, close his eyes, and let exhaustion take him. But he had to stay awake.

Every few minutes Dean would send out a prayer, hoping it would help lead Castiel to their location.

A musky scent was carried to Dean on the wind, the hair on the back of his neck rising, and he didn't hear anything, but instinct told him to look to the hill above them. Craning his neck hurt, but it had been worth it because a hundred yards away he saw something hiding within the rock and shrubs, an animal packed with muscles and covered in tan fur, its whiskers twitching.

"Jack, close your eyes," Dean whispered.

"What? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Everything's gonna be fine. We just have a visitor." Dean grabbed a rock and started banging it hard against one of the fallen slabs, and the clattering it made echoed off the side of the mountains that rose up around him. "Hey, dickhead! I see you!" he screamed. "Get out of here! Fuck off! We don't want you here! Go feed your ugly kitty ass somewhere else!"

The mountain lion still hadn't left, so he continued yelling, "Fuck off, Puss N' Boots!" He kept throwing vitriol at it, making his voice as loud as possible, banging the rock so hard, parts chipped off and cut into his arm. Eventually, the animal moved along. He kept it up for a few minutes till he was sure it was gone, and then heaved out a sigh, and laid his head down.

"We're safe," he assure Jack. "We're safe."

* * *

The sun was setting when Castiel found them. They hadn't had anymore visitors (thanks to Dean's idea of keeping a conversation going to warn anything away), and now his angel had his hands on his back.

"The kid! Take care of the kid," Dean breathed.

Castiel kissed his head, and went to take care of Jack. Dean had his eyes closed from exhaustion, so he couldn't see, but there was stone moving, Jack crying out, and healing light touching his eyelids. Castiel was back over to him.

"Dean, your back. You tore a few discs, and there's a dislocation. Does it hurt?"

"What do you think, Sherlock?"

"Yes, sorry. I… I have to put what I can back in place. Don't move."

"Not like I can anyway," he grumbled.

But Dean did try to move when Castiel repositioned his torso, and he clawed at the ground, screaming. He struggled, and Castiel held him down, making him ache.

"I said don't move!"

Dean let out a bitter laugh.

"Let's try again."

Jack came over, skin no longer pale, legs working just fine, but still covered in dirt, and he held Dean's hand.

"Thanks, kid."

"Just try not to move this time," Jack reminded him.

"Yeah, got it."

There was a snap, a pop (which seemed too kind a word for how much agony it caused him), and then it felt like something had been realigned. Dean screamed through clenched teeth. He tried pulling himself away, but Castiel reaffirmed the _don't move_, hands holding him down, and then they were glowing as they healed him.

Dean was released and he rolled onto his back, breathing hard. He stared up into Castiel's blue eyes.

"Can I move now?" he asked, bitter from all the fear and pain he'd just been through.

As an answer Castiel held out his hand to help him up, and Dean took it.


End file.
